


ground control to major tom, your circuit's dead there's something wrong

by Pearly_Pornography



Series: Pearly's Preklok Fics [17]
Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Gen, Hallucinations, Latent Homophobia, Original Character Death(s), Overdose, Partying, Preklok, Recreational Drug Use, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-21 08:27:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10681512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearly_Pornography/pseuds/Pearly_Pornography
Summary: In which Nathan Explosion huffs paint.





	ground control to major tom, your circuit's dead there's something wrong

"That's lovely, sweetie. You got invited to a party."

It was weird. Nathan had never been to an actual high school _party_ before. "Make sure not to get drunk, be smart." His mother was being so dumb about it, jeez, it was just a party. Half of the point of going was getting drunk, anyway. "And don't get hurt! If you have sex with a girl, remember to use protection! And don't get in a car with someone you don't know, and if the food is making people act weird, don't--"

"Mom!" He growled, crossing his arms. "I'm gonna be fine! Quit being so overblaring!"

"Overbearing, dear."

"That. Whatever."

Anyway, that was how he ended up down by Peacock Boulevard. After being dropped off by his parents, he shuffled into the house. Marion West answered the door, her pudgy freckled face curled into an annoyed expression. "Hi."

"Are you here for Jared's stupid party, or are you selling something?"

"...The first one."

Jared West was kind of a dick, but according to pretty much anyone, he could host a damn good party. They were invite-only. Fucking insane. Nathan had never gone, and he wasn't sure what changed, but regardless, it happened. Marion rolled her eyes, moving to the side.

"Can you tell them not to be so fucking loud?"

"Uhh... I can try, I guess..."

"They're in the basement."

Down, down, down the stairs. The music became louder, in wild wild '97 fashion, with Nirvana blasting through the walls. Smells like teen spirit, indeed. Laughter and clinking bottles, bodies wedged together in the overcrowded, hot basement. Laughter and shouting and talking, made his head hurt, made him want to back out, but he'd come too far. Sasha Lee, a Korean girl in the grade above him who still barely clocked in at five feet tall, took notice of him and staggered over. Her shorts were tight around her legs and she could barely walk.

"Hey Nathan."

"...Hi..."

"I had no idea you were coming. C'mon." She grabbed his shirt, pulling him into the crowds before he could even think about it. Everyone here was a senior, it seemed like. There were a few exceptions, of course, but a whole lot of people Nathan barely even knew. 

"Hey Nathan." Jared was sitting on an old couch with some other guys holding a few paint cans. "I've heard so much about you."

"From who?"

"Brett Hayward." 

Of course. That asshole. "But I heard you're dropping out soon and you don't get out much, so I figured I'd indulge you. Besides, you seem like you know how to have fun." One of the guys beside him shook a spray can, firing it directly into his face and painting his chin and nose bright blue. "We're huffin', want in?"

"Huffin'? Like, huffin' paint?"

"Yeah."

"Uhh..." He stared at Jared for a moment.

"Come on, don't be a fuckin' killjoy. We got booze, weed..." 

"...Alright... uh..."

He clasped his hands together. There were enough cases of beer to intoxicate an elephant. He took one of them. A six-pack. It scared the shit out of him, he'd never really drank anything heavier than communion wine before. Prying a cap off with his teeth, he gave it a taste, grimacing. God, it was fucking awful. He spat, seeing a few of the people around him giggling at his silly reaction. His palm scraped across his tongue to rid the taste.

"Nathan, dude, it's not that bad."

Leo Brown. Some other kid from the senior class. Nathan took another sip, and another, and forced himself to ignore the taste. It was like liquid bread, fucking gross, dear lord. It dripped down his face in golden-brown, bubbly streams as he barely kept it in his mouth. "Come on! Go! Chug! You got it!" There was chanting around him. Already he felt just a little fuzzy around the edges, but not enough to call it a party. He tipped the bottle back, drinking it the same way Lucile Erhardt from down the street chugged bleach the year before. Just endure. Come on, he was a real man, his mouth was dribbling and he smashed the empty bottle on the ground when he was done.

Cheering everywhere. He felt good.

A few of the songs on the CD completely went through his head -- already Breed was playing.

"Check this out, Nathan."

One of Jared's friends -- Anthony Wiles, he believed -- was shaking a can of iridescent, green spray paint. All at once the cloud of color fired across his mouth and lips, and he took a deep breath. (Because, well, if he didn't breathe, he'd die.) His eyes were wide. By god, he felt...

He felt like he was falling.

Hands caught him, his eyes twitching. Oh my, oh my, oh my. He shuddered, feeling a euphoric twinge in his bones, like they were made of jelly and he was melting inside of his flappy, floppy skin. Spittle crawled down his chin, mixing into the green paint that covered half his face. And then he was giggling. God, he just felt so happy. He wanted to laugh. He hadn't been this happy in years. Froth was turning green on his lips and he felt shaky. Wobbly.

"Is this the first time you've huffed?"

He felt like his ears were full of cotton.

"...Yeah."

"Aww, he's like a little baby." A palm wiped across his chin, trying to scrape it clean. He mumbled. "It's kind of adorable." There were hands on his shoulders, allowing him to stand upright. He felt like he was floating in space, in zero-g. "Nathan, how many fingers am I holdin' up?"

"Uhhh..." It took him a moment to figure out where the voice was coming from. "Four."

"Okay, good, you're not completely fucked up yet."

Lithium played through the oversized stereo system and it beat deep within his heart. He slid across the floor, was he dancing or was he flopping? His toes were barely even touching the ground when he jumped and skipped and dizzily bonked walls with his elbows.

"Nathan, it's better if you inhale it from a plastic bag. Makes the high last longer."

He'd never felt this ecstatic in his life. 

"How I do do it."

"Pff." Laughter. "Just put it over your face and take deep breaths." So he did. Another wave of blurry happiness. "Yer gettin' gold paint on yer face! I love this guy!" The music shuddered deep in his bones, and he was moving. Oh, oh yes. He was stumbling because the rhythm shook the world like an earthquake. Houston, we have a problem! His golden lips kissed the wall, and he fell back into another girl whose face he couldn't make out. He was having fun. He was laughing.

"Jared, we have a problem."

He heard it beneath the noise, as though his senses were out of control. He shuffled towards the whispering, but someone grabbed him by the back of his shirt and he stumbled into another wall, Cobain on his mind and beer on his tongue.

"Nathan, holy shit."

Brett Hayward. Nathan was too happy to let this ruin his night. "You look totally shitfaced, dude. Why kill what few brain cells you got left?"

"Pfehehehe..." He tried to respond, but it came out as slurred giggling. "...shh...uck m' dick..." He coughed, sparkling clouds puffing from his throat. Brett's expression was completely outside of his realm of comprehension. He floated through the crowds.

"How'd you even get in here?"

"Nnnhh."

"God, you're a mess."

"Fughoff."

He laughed at nothing, feet not seeming to hit the ground. _It is now my duty to completely drain you._ Everyone was in some kind of cloud. Or maybe they were just gathering together for something? 

Spin the bottle! Spin the bottle!

It had been full of beer, but now it was empty, it turned in space through the circle of teenagers. Nathan grinned at it, unsure whether or not he was on this plane of existence. Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss. Leah Barlow and Tiffany Willis were making out and all the boys were hooting and hollering. Tiff looked like she was about to take off her shirt and bra when the door to the basement opened. Like moles, they gazed towards the sky.

"Everyone needs to go home."

Murmurs rose above the crowd, confusion and annoyance. "All of you. N-now."

Nathan grumbled. He could hardly even rise to his feet, let alone stagger up the stairs and all the way home. The panic in Justin Fox's voice was quite real. What was he so upset about? This wasn't even his house! 

"Wait, how..." Nathan coughed, shuffling like a zombie. "...get home..."

"Look," Jared appeared, pushing Nathan up the stairs. "I don't care if you can't get home, you can't stay here. Goodnight." Unceremoniously, he fell onto the pavement, green and gold face-marks decorating the path outside Jared's house. Nathan fumbled for his phone, buried deep in his bag.

What was mom's number...?

Crap...

He pressed the "last call" button. 

"Hello?"

"Moh."

"Nathan, sweetie. What is it?"

"...need car..."

"I thought you were sleeping over."

"Pick me up pleashh."

"Honey, are you alright? You're slurring."

"Mohm." He coughed, and he coughed in gold. "...'m fine. 'm sorr'."

"Oh dear... Alright, hon, I'm coming." She hung up. Nathan sat down on Jared's front pathway, a patio leading up to a deck. He curled up and felt overwhelmed. Why was he crying? Dammit, he felt so emotional over... nothing. 

His mom picked him up at 1:30 in the morning. Her expression was regret. "Oh god, Nathan, why do you have paint on your face? What were you doing?!" Nathan grumbled, tears streaming down his pudgy little face. Rose sighed, wrapping him in a tight embrace. "Oh, my poor baby... Get in, I'm bringing you home." He flopped into the front seat, feeling like a big, heavy sack of potatoes or lard or something.

"...Police cars."

He stared out the window at the blaring lights.

"I hope none of those kids are hurt."

-

His whole body felt heavy when he woke up. God, what had he been doing...? He tried to recollect the threads of his memory. He got... invited to a party, and then he huffed paint and everyone laughed at him like he was a fucking clown. He patted his chin. No stains. Forcing himself out of bed was even harder than usual, with his big, heavy lump of a body. Cough, cough. He took his morning medication for his asthma, and his depression.

Then he stood.

Get up, boy.

He staggered down the stairs, heavy and tired. His parents were in the living room, dad reading the newspaper and mom petting their cat. They both looked at him, exhausted and fucked-up and not even on this planet.

"Honey, what happened at that party?"

"Wuh?" Nathan blinked. "I dunno."

"What do you mean you don't know? You were there." Oscar opened his mouth, finally. "Do you know what I saw on the news this morning?"

"...Nuh."

"Nathaniel." For fuck's sakes, he was pulling out the full names. "One of your classmates died, and you don't even remember?"

Nathan spat, what? What the fuck?! "I know you got pretty fucked up last night, but Christ, get it together." More silence. "...Sasha Lee, from down the road."

Sasha Lee. She looked fine, she looked completely fine, just a bit drunk, or a bit high. Nathan shook his head, holy shit. How could she just be dead in one night? "They had to pick up her corpse last night, she overdosed on heroine." Oscar was reading directly off of the local news. Sasha Lee, bright star from a perfect family, found dead in a bathtub in her underwear. "...Do you remember anything that happened there?"

"Uh..."

"And why did your mother find you with spray paint on your face?!"

"I-I don't know."

"Have you been abusing drugs?"

"I don't know!"

"Why don't you ever tell us anything?"

"I don't know, I don't know!"

His foot collided with the coffee table and it shook, sending hot coffee onto the rug. He ran away. It wasn't his damn fault, he didn't do it. He didn't take the bag. He didn't write the invites. He didn't hook Sasha up with her dealer, he didn't do anything, not a single thing. 

He fell into the covers. He wanted to sleep forever. 

Dropping grades? Yeah, that was understandable.

Drug problems? A bit worrying, but hey.

Death follows you wherever you go?

Sorry. Can't help you.


End file.
